Wednesday, January 14, 2015

There’s a special place in
heaven with my Dad’s name on it. I have two older sisters—making quite an
estrogen-filled household. Possibly attributed to this, or perhaps just to the
person my father is, I never thought of my Dad as a typical, ass-kicking, Hulk-man.
I grew up innocent and oblivious to the idea that some kids grow up in a
household that value accessibility over interaction. When I mentioned in class
one day that I grew up seeing my father cry (per most human beings) every time
they yelled “move that bus” on Extreme Makeover Home Edition, I was not lying.

See, on the father,
fatherhood, fathering scale, my Dad truly fathered my sisters and me. He didn’t
just see that we had the financial means and appropriate insurance to support
us when we were sick. He stayed up with us at night, got the antibiotics we
needed at the store, and saw to it that we took them according to directions.

My sisters and I also grew
up with a passion for dance. We each danced from the time we were three to the
time we were eighteen. We didn’t skip a beat and neither did our father. As
most mothers stared in adoration of their daughters, my father sat in his uniform
and boots with his eyes glued to no screen but the two-way mirror peering into
the dance studio where we learned the difference between first position and
second.

And when it came time to
write a—gasp—100 word essay in grade school about our hero, I wrote about my
Dad. In was the exception to the rule, no doubt, but I didn’t know this. Call
me innocent still today, but I didn’t know I was the exception to the rule any
more then than I did last year. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not oblivious to a
large number of kids who are raised without a present father or parents at all.
But when I wrote about my Dad, the words surrounding him as a hero came easily.
When I shared my paper with him after receiving it back from my teacher, I’ll
never forget the moment he read it. He was sorting laundry and began crying for the first time I can remember. Even though he often told me how
proud of me he was, I didn’t need to be told. He showed me.

My father was always and is
always expected to do the same things as always. Love and support me
unconditionally and teach me the “correct way to eat an Oreo.” Yes, he is
absent a little more than he used to be. The reason for this increased absence
is for no other reason except that college happened and we are physically more
absent. But when it comes to fathering me, he couldn’t be more present.

I call my Dad every Monday and
Wednesday when I walk to work at six in the morning before my ten hour shifts.
I do this partly because hearing the voice of my father will always make me
feel protected even if I am not. But I also do it because we are closer in our
relationship than ever. Going off on my own has blessed me with the ability to
truly understand all he has done for me to ensure I am a successful and
independent adult. Although, I use the word independent very loosely; my
parents make it extremely difficult to be emotionally independent.

So cheers to you, Dad. Cheers to the guy that will
drive down to Athens in an instant if I need him to. Cheers to the man who is
just as irreplaceable in the mind of my 10 year old self as he is in the mind
of my 21 year old self. Love you forever & always.

Friday, May 23, 2014

One thousand ninety five days later and my heart still
aches. It’s a low, dull ache. The kind of ache you only notice when the chaos
subsides and reality sets in. The kind of ache that isn’t enough to hurt but
enough to constantly remind you it is still there. And that you’re still
imperfect. That you’ve gone through something that once crippled your soul and
consumed you with pain.

That chilling pain and lasting ache are what remains from
the loss of my cousin. He left us three years ago today and the loss brings me
to tears still today. I’ve found my own ways to honor him and stay true to the
promises I whispered to him one thousands ninety three days ago. But there’s no
way to sugarcoat the black hole that is grief and mourning. It sucks you in
with no mercy. But if you just say a prayer, hold the ones still here
physically, and look up, you can find a way out.

I remember holding his hand and talking to him in his last
days. You see, it’s an unexplainable connection I have with him. Maybe it’s the
fact he’s the closest family member in age I’ve ever had. Maybe it’s the
shenanigans we used to get into when we were young. Or maybe it’s the idea that
he has changed my life more than any single person on this earth.

I didn’t
stand on stage moments after his passing to address my graduating class and
move my tassel from one side to another for just myself. In fact, if I had only
done it for myself I wouldn’t have done it at all. I didn’t come to college to
chase my dreams just for my own benefit. And I will not stand on stage next
year and address my graduating class of Ohio University for me and only me. I
have done and will do these things for the both of us. I’ll do them for my
old-souled cousin that never got to walk across that stage. I’ll walk down the
aisle to the love of my life with the love of my cousin in my heart. I will be
the parent I know he would have been. It’s been my promise to him. And it will
be a promise I keep until the day I get to finally hug him and be the cousin he
has been to me both on this earth and from above.

Thursday, January 2, 2014

If only I had a dollar for every weight loss commercial I
have seen on TV since the new year started. Or perhaps, a cookie for every
commercial. Wouldn’t that be ironic...

It amazes me that some associate a new year with weight loss
or a “new you.” What if we lost a grudge, a friend that drains our energy, or
the negativity in our life instead? The extra pound or two around your tummy doesn’t
weigh nearly as heavily on you as the chip on your shoulder.

There’s no need for a new you. The old you is wise with
experience, knowledge, and a past. The old you remembers the wild child that
through heartbreak, disappointment, and beauty came out as a strong and
stunning adult. Feel that soft thumping within your chest? That steady movement
has felt your chest quake in laughter and jerk in sobs. That constant flutter
has been gripped when you have been shocked, touched, and moved by life’s
wonders. It has been spun by dance and lifted by reach.

The old you is
vintage—an original antique. Let your heart carry you through another year and
your mind guide you to the love of yourself and others. Let your curiosity lift
you to a new culture, experience, and person. And let the old you continue to
find happiness and the constant fluttering of butterflies in your heart and a
cautious gut-feeling in your just-the-right-sized tummy. This is my resolution for you.

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

The Purpose Behind The Series

To think of what life has taught me in twenty years is like trying to win Monopoly or a dog chasing its tail. You can try to come to a concise conclusion. You'll go in circles for an hour without an end in sight.

But eventually you learn that you must enjoy the small victories. Because, you see, in life there isn't a way to artfully sum up what you have learned. You can take one lesson or one hundred lessons to explain what this life has taught you. Every pit and peak of our day, week, and year uncovers a lesson.

However, my twenty lessons don't attempt to put my life in a box. My intentions were not to create an end-all, be-all list of my personal victories after dark times.

My lessons are meant to scratch the surface of the meaning of my life. My hilariously awkward, quirky, sassy, loud, cozy crazy life. My goal was and is quite simple. I want you to know you aren't alone. That it is okay to be single. In fact, it should be celebrated. I want you to know it is okay to love and be loved. It is okay to miss home, move on, make your own rules, write your own story, laugh at yourself, sob like a baby and eat a double cheeseburger. You can even do all of those at the same person if you want. And it is okay.

This world is large but these lessons are small. Our hearts are in different places but our experiences are the same. We breathe the same air. We feel the same hurt. We feel the same love. Ask yourself why we shouldn't learn the same lessons. Because if we share what we know with the world, we may save someone from feeling that same pain it took to learn a hard lesson. Share your wisdom and in turn share your life.

Monday, November 4, 2013

20.My purpose.

It’s hard to fathom the idea that by simply
being, we are serving a purpose. We may think we aimlessly go through the motions
of our day with no bruises or surprises, highs or lows. But the fact you are you
and no one else—existing, breathing, learning and living—you, love, are serving
a purpose.

But we yearn for a bigger purpose in life.
Rightfully, so, I might add. And some people search the entirety of their lives
to fall short of finding the reason they were put on this earth.

However I know my purpose in life. And in
the 20 amazing years I have been blessed to live—it is the most breathtaking,
startling, profound lesson I have learned.

I, simply put, was placed here to reveal
the love life brings us.

It sounds winding, overly simplistic, and
who knows, maybe a bit arrogant.

But I know I am needed because of my heart,
the courage I have to use it, and the talent I have to deliver it in words. Through
my talent of writing, I am able to show others how much love life delivers to
us every day, year, and lifetime. I am here to help others see love and find
the importance in purpose.

So now it is time for me to reveal the love
of others. I asked for family and friends to reveal the lessons they have
learned in life. And this is what I learned:

"Never allow yourself to depend on another person." -Lauren

"The importance of family to get through the hard
times. When something goes wrong they are just a phone call or hug away." -Megan

"There's no excuse for being a pessimist. This world
is beautiful and the fact that we wake up every day should be enough to put a
smile on your face.

The amount of stress you let in to your life is your
decision. Deal with things the best you can then let them go. Think back to
what you used to stress out about in high school and how insignificant those
things seem now, that's how we'll view these situations when we're old and dying!

Whether it be work, school, or play keep a smile on your
face and joy in your heart. That's how life was intended to be lived and any
other emotion, although sometimes necessary, can take away from the potential
of your day." -Micah

"Family is just that….family. Whether it is your
natural born or extended. After marriage you should never learn to just
“tolerate” your extended family. You need to open your heart and accept them as
your own. You learn that they are there for you and support you just as much as
your own. They become your own." -Craig

"I've learned, as cliche as it may sound, laughter is very often, if not
always, the best medicine!" - Louis

Oh so many things...if you do or say something that makes another person smile,
you have given them a gift." -Gail

“'You don’t like the person you’ve become? Then do something about it because no
one’s going to do it or you.' This quote has taught me so much about my life." -Zach

"Quality over quantity in everything in life. Few friends who are true friends
over tons of fake ones. Fewer possessions with meaning over many without need. I
try to apply that rule anywhere I can and I think most of the time it makes
people happier in life." -Bridget

We never know the minutes we have left on our time clock. The earlier we learn the reason we are here, the earlier we can discover the meaning of our lives and find comfort in the pits and peaks of our existence.

Lessons are permanent marks on our minds and hearts. They remind us of where we have been, where we are now, and where we will go in the future. They are a part of us- guiding, lighting, and calming.

the story behind the stories

behind every face is a story. and behind every story is a purpose. my name is rachel and i am simply here to reveal the path we all travel on to discovering our purpose in life; something a wise young man named ian knew the importance of before most even pondered the idea.